(note: i am not jens lekman)
Today I had a four hour rehearsal for my reading-theatre-class final, then promptly spent the rest of the day changing my clothes every five minutes, bursting into tears, breathing weird, eating a sammich, listening to jens, trying to get people to go drinking with me... and finally watching an episode of kids in the hall, during which i felt like crying because it looks like they are having so much fun at the party in the opening credits (shot in Toronto at the old Guvernment...season 4).
What with my wildly oscillating living arrangements, emotional turmoil(tm), etc., I've been a very silly basketcase lately. I sat down in my poetry class the other day and everyone looked at me expectantly. It turned out I had a seminar presentation worth 1/4 of my final mark. I had no idea. I hadn't done the reading. I didn't even know what day it was; it was amazing that I managed to get there at all.
(Note: it was fine. I did it the next class, and did very well I think.)
I've also forgot doctor's appointments, plans with friends, my age, etc.
The good news is that I've been offered a position as an artist-in-residence in Halifax for a few weeks this september. I'm thrilled at the prospect. Also a little nervous.
Lately my heart feels like a terribly wound up elastic band that keeps being plucked and shot around the room. This is a second-or-third hand metaphor I picked up a coupla years back.
Unfortunately, I suffer from an illness that has the ability to either make me incredibly eloquent or incredibly incoherent. Today it's the latter.
Goodnight.
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